Page 149 of Chaos Kills

It takes me a few blinks to pull that in.

To pullherin.

I don’t know what the hell she’s doing here or why, but I shouldn’t be that surprised. Bay walks around however she wants and takes what she needs with zero fucks.

However, now that she’s within my view, I’m way too into my high to evaluate what’s happened in the past between us.

Way too high.

I can’t help the deep groan that escapes my throat when the blonde deepthroats me like a champ, but the only girl who has driven me crazy is now standing in front of me with shock and displeasure at the scene taking place before her.

And I’m suddenly disinterested in everything going on around me.

With my elbows, I make room for Victor and the brunette whose titty is in my hand to fuck off me. The blonde’s lips are still wrapped tightly around my dick, and I pry her off gently so I can rise from the couch.

My legs tingle from lack of blood flow as I step over the girl still on her knees and make my way over to Bay.

My heart is on full power, banging in my chest at her arrival. I want to do another line, but that means she might leave this room, and I might not get what I want.

It doesn’t matter that we left at odds and she didn’t want me. All I feel is this intense pleasure that rips through my veins because only she can satisfy me.

She reaches for the door, but I make it in time to softly place my palm on it and keep it closed.

Crowding her against the wall, she smells like honeyed lust and fucking cupcakes.

And I have a sweet tooth the size of this whole damn state.

Leaning forward, my forehead presses into hers, and I deeply inhale her again.

All I want is to be inside her, fast, quick, and slow. Contradictions up the ass, but I can never fully make up my mind on the best way to fuck Bay Astor.

All of them sound fine to me and get the job done.

“Bay Bay McQueen…” Her scent infiltrates my body like another drug, making me feel more awake and alert to her being near. “You fucked up. You shouldn’t have come in here.”

“Reeve…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, which causes me to pull back a bit from her to look down at her.

Those blue eyes, the lightness of them, can never compare to anyone else’s. I saw Matteo’s game to give me a look-a-like the other night. I allowed her to touch me, but here I am.

Standing toe-to-toe-again with the girl of my dreams.

My fingers coil around her hips, and I’m dragging her against me. My eyes close as our foreheads meet again, and I feel her shudder.

“What are you doing?” she mutters, and I expect hostility like last week in South Shore when she found me with two girls, but this time, she’s acting like the battered girlfriend who just accepts my infidelities.

“Playing,” I deadpan.

“You look exhausted. When was the last time you slept or ate?”

No clue.

And honestly, I don’t particularly care. The days blend together, and I never fully allow myself to be sober.

What’s the point?

My palms slide around the curve of her ass. “I have a problem. And I need you to help me rectify it.”

“What is it?” She tries to pull away from me, but I refuse to make this a thing.

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